


Miracles

by HisagiJ69



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: I don't really know - Freeform, M/M, Post-Series, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:46:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisagiJ69/pseuds/HisagiJ69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert waited for more than one hundred years for the moment he would see Alice and Oz again, even though never sure he really would, never sure if things would go right should they come back. Now they did and Gilbert is still not sure of anything, but it doesn't really matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> So :)  
> This was.... I'm not even sure. I'm not very confident about this one fic, but I'll still post it :P (have nothing to lose, right? ;) )  
> My heart has been dwelling in pain since the end of PH, so I decided to focus on how wonderful and beautiful and miraculous it is that Gilbert, Oz and Alice got to find each others again even after death. It just makes me really happy, this reincarnation thing, because I do love to beleive that some souls are just meant to meet over and over again in their various lifes :) I hope GilxOz(and Alice, sure!) are of those :3

“Hey, you.” The brown haired girl called out from her place on the table, after long minutes watching Gilbert with silent attention.

The man took his eyes off of his cooking for a second to meet her gaze. “Yes?”

“Isn’t it hard? To cook with just one hand? It must be hard.” Alice asked, her eyes naturally curious, no mischievous intent in her words.

Gilbert couldn’t help but smile. Smile at the remembrance of old days, happy ones, and smile at that child sitting at his table, that was technically a stranger to him, and yet whose soul he knew better than he himself dared to admit. “It was, in the beginning. Not now.” He assured, turning back to the kitchen stall.

“So it is easier now, you say.” The girl stated while getting up to get closer to him, ignoring an evident question mark, as she definitely intended him to proceed.

“Well, I had a lot of time to practice, as you know. I learned. With a lot of effort, I must admit. Lottie was a great help, though.”

“Who is Lottie?”

The question didn’t take him by surprise, not because this Alice didn’t recall her past memories, but because even the Alice he first met would have asked, since the girl seldom called anyone but Oz but their name, probably meaning she did not know most of them. Gilbert’s smile was still on his face, warm and peaceful. “She is a friend of mine. She was. She passed away a few decades ago. She was actually a lot like you in some aspects. Stubborn and short fused, at least.” _But kind hearted, deep inside_ , he thought to himself.

Alice frowned, not really pleased by the comparison, but let go of it with no further answer. Her mind was still focused on the first matter. “And why did you learn to cook? I mean, you were rich. Couldn’t you just have gotten someone to cook for you? I’m sure you could’ve. Why didn’t you?”

“Well…” He stopped for a second, his hand freezing, holding up the skillet. Then he left out a short chuckle. “I could not. You see, I promised someone I would learn how to cook one handed.”

“Hum…” Alice mumbled. “Was it me?” She added, after a short hesitation.

This one took Gilbert by surprise. He turned around, ready to bring the food to the table, but stood there a while looking down at the new Alice. She had identic long brown hairs as her past self, and she also had big shiny eyes and innocent stare. Even though her appearance was still different from the one Gilbert knew, he could easily recognize the energetic brat he once put up with against his will. The man then let the skillet over the table and used his now free hand to ruffle Alice’s hair, as he knew she did like. “Yes, it was you.” He admitted. “I kept my promise, see?”

Alice’s eyes were now radiant and her smile unbearably familiar. It was a brief moment, but it felt like a short eternity for them both. Gilbert could tell by looking that Alice did remember his hand, this particular gesture, even though she was certainly confused by that feeling. It made him very happy, to be honest. “You should eat now.” He announced.

The girl turned to stare at the table and sat down, too excited. “It smells great!”

“I shall call… your brother.” Gilbert said, after a short hesitation. It was not so weird that Alice and Oz were siblings in this life. After all, knowing the deep connection they shared, it was nothing but expected that they would be born close to one another this time. Such made him glad, actually.

He left the kitchen, but stopped at the door to observe the girl once again, literally attacking the meat he had cooked for her. He had surely missed that constantly famished Stupid Rabbit.

 

Weirdly enough, Gilbert hesitated when he reached for the door of his bedroom and his hand stopped before actually touching it. It surprised him, for he had no idea of how nervous he really was until that moment. It was not as if he would see Oz for the first time after a century, since they had met that same morning, but still, this was probably the first time after the initial shock. So his heart was racing and his head throbbing but it wasn’t painful or scary. It was a comforting, almost pleasurable kind of nervousness. The man took a deep breath before he finally knocked.

            “Yeah.” A voice answered from inside.

            Gilbert slowly opened the door and peeked inside. Nothing had prepared him for what he found. It was Oz, simply Oz, and yet it made his breath get stuck on his throat. The boy was standing in front of the mirror, wearing those green shorts and brown vest Gilbert knew so well. He looked back to the man at the door, both hands working on his red necktie and smiled. For an instant, Gilbert saw the Oz he had met and knew before, that one that dwelled in a body once belonging to Jack, the one that had sworn to protect him as a worthy master, the one that waved him goodbye one hundred and thirteen years ago. Gilbert had not forgotten one single detail about the boy, what was both scary, having in mind that a century is a long time to make and collect new memories, leading unavoidably to the deletion of old ones, and predictable. After all, how could Gilbert ever forget anything related to that one existence that brought meaning to his own? That memory, though, was both a blessing and a curse. Gilbert was still more than happy for it.

He had been all of that time drowned in doubts, in fear. Besides the natural fear of never finding the boy again, he also feared that Oz wouldn’t recognize him when he came back and, probably most of all, that he himself wouldn’t recognize his beloved master. What if he was just too different? What if, for some reason, the fact that his body was different, made Gilbert hesitate to love his soul? What monster would that make of himself? That was a different body from the previous one, for sure. Even though his hair was equally blonde and, for some coincidence, bared the same haircut, it was slightly darker than before, and even though that smile curved the exact same way, his lips were a bit thinner. And yet, he saw now, staring at the boy in front of the mirror, those had all been needless worries. Those eyes were big and of a hazelnut brown now but, looking into them, Gilbert saw only fresh green. Even when the boy and Alice found him at Lacie’s grave, he instantly ran to them. He hadn’t thought, he had acted on raw instinct and all because, even though different, he recognized them almost immediately. It was a relief, to be honest, that reincarnation didn’t change the way he felt, like he swore nothing ever would. Oz’s soul, he knew, was all that mattered. And it couldn’t matter less what kind of body he was in, what his actual race or gender or species was, neither the epoch nor world where they met. None of those meant a thing, because Gilbert loved only Oz and was most loyal to his soul.

            He was ripped out of his thoughts when Oz laughed nervously, a shade of pink slowly appearing in his cheeks. “Uh… I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wear your things, I just found these and I felt like trying them on. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!”

            The blond boy stopped struggling against his necktie when he heard Gilbert laughing. It was low and deep chuckle and, for some reason, he blushed even more when the man looked at him, a bright and kind smile on his face. “It’s okay.” He affirmed, stepping closer. Oz seemed paralysed, for he did not move. “These were actually yours. I kept them on a whim.” He said, seeming somehow embarrassed too, and reaching for the red accessory.

            “Eh?” Oz mumbled. “You mean from the… previous me? That would certainly explain why they seemed so familiar! Wow…” He gasped, genuinely amazed, when Gilbert nimbly moved his fingers to arrange a perfectly made tie knot. “Wow, that was so cool! How did you manage that?”

            “Well, I had a lot of time to practice.” Gilbert admitted once again. Indeed, having only one arm had been a nuisance, to say the least, and it had taken him decades to stop trying to reach things with that missing limb. In the other hand, it had given him the chance to make up new skills, because doing some things with one hand had to be considered skills. Now, he was perfectly fine and, in fact, he almost missed to miss his left arm, even though that didn’t make much sense. Even in the beginning, when it was hard and infuriating to drop things all the time or to miss every shot he tried to take, Gilbert always snapped out of it by remembering the reason of that sacrifice. Many years after, it still hurt sometimes when he was alone, more like a ghostly pain, remembering him of Oz and of his own devotion and love. So he caressed that stub with affection, most of the times. He wondered if that would change, now that his master was back.

            Oz turned around to look at himself in the mirror again and seemed pretty happy with the result. But his smile faded a bit, as if taken over by heavier thoughts. “One hundred years, right?” Gilbert opened his mouth with intentions to answer, but those were so faint he closed it without a word. Before he could think of speaking again, Oz continued: “That you lived.” He explained. A smile with no real amusement drew itself on his face. “That seems just so much. I can’t even picture it.”

            “It is a long time.” Gilbert acknowledged, scratching his nape in sudden anxiety.

            “Yet, you _did_ wait.” The boy turned around and looked up. “You did wait. For us. All this time.”

            Gilbert felt heat rushing to his face and tears moistening his eyes. “Yes.” He answered, briefly, his voice shakier that he intended, his mind suddenly too foggy to develop the subject. So he just affirmed, with all honesty his heart bared. “I did wait for you.”

            “Since I can remember I had these strange dreams, you know? Sporadic ones, most didn’t even make sense, and they all seemed so _real_ … So real that I couldn’t shake off the feeling that they really were. But, of course, it seemed impossible, so I discarded that possibility soon enough. It was long after our parents died that I found out my sister was the same. We were very young at the time, and some years later, we started to realize some of our dreams were _exactly_ the same. I still thought it was impossible, and tried to explain it by some kind of weird telepathy thing, since we are twins. But I think both of us knew it was more than that. When Vincent came to us, he came up with a lot of nonsense. I mean, how are two kids like us supposed to react when a stranger tells them some weird fairy tale story that involves the existence of many worlds, another dimension full of monsters and our own death in a past life?” The boy left out a chuckle that turned into a sigh. “I believe most kids would run away with no second thought. But well, we did not. Incredibly, both of us _believed_. We understood right away why those dreams seemed so real. They were not dreams. They were _memories_.”

            “It is… indeed abnormal. Souls do not usually carry memories to their next lives.” Gilbert confessed. Even though he had always wished, to some extent, for both Alice and Oz to remember him, he was sure that there was little possibility they actually would.

            “Yeah. And yet we both knew we _had_ to go with him.” Oz continued, smiley. “Like if that was our duty. Like if there was something out there, _someone_ , waiting for us to return to him.” A short pause made Gilbert hold his breath. “It was you all the time.”

            Gilbert had run some theories through his mind to explain it all. The Core of the Abyss would most likely be the responsible, leaving shallow scraps of memories on their souls, maybe out of kindness or pity. Or maybe, as Oz said, his own wish to see them again had been strong enough to defy the universe’s rules. He would never know, but either way, it didn’t matter. “Miracles happen.” He affirmed, an odd feeling of nostalgia taking over him. “I am sure of that.”

            “I doubt I can ever deny that…” Oz’s smile seemed to slightly fade as he looked up, thoughtful. “It’s strange, still. That you waited. Anyone else would have moved on.” This one time, Gilbert rushed to answer, heart suddenly tightened inside his chest, but Oz was quicker again and didn’t give him the chance to. “I feel like wondering why, sometimes.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I feel like wondering what is it that you could find in me that made you willingly wait for so long.”

            Gilbert breathed in as his hand instinctively reached for Oz, slightly enough for him to barely notice, and his fingers mindlessly caressed one of the blond locks. He was calm when he talked, against all odds. “Then… why don’t you wonder? Why don’t you ask?” Gilbert said it even knowing that, would Oz ask him those same questions, he would not be able to answer coherently. For words like “devotion”, “affection”, “loyalty” or “fondness” weren’t enough to describe the length of his feelings for Oz. “Love” would be more fitting, and even that one seemed somehow unsuitable, almost empty of meaning, compared to the reality in his heart. So he was fine to admit he felt for Oz all the above mentioned, but unspeakably more. So much more that Gilbert still didn’t fully understand or perceive. He didn’t need to, though. Feeling it was enough, describing it was futile.

            “I… I end up feeling I don’t really _need_ to.” Oz said, smiling again, shyly, visibly struggling with the words to make them come out with some sense. “It feels almost like… something natural. It’s like… It’s like Gilbert waiting for me all this time is the only thing he could do. Like if anything else would just be weird and abnormal. So I don’t need to ask why because I just accept it. I feel… so irrationally happy about it, too.” Oz took one hand to his chest and hesitated one second before he grasped his shirt. “I feel it right here. That this is just… _right_.” When the boy looked up, he was faced by Gilbert’s expression of quiet surprise and amazement and it made him step back in embarrassment, close his eyes and let out an awkward giggle. “Ah… I’m sorry. It doesn’t make much sense, right?”

            Gilbert found it in himself to smile. He felt so incomprehensibly glad that he could just not avoid it. “No. It doesn’t make sense at all.” Neither of it all made sense, just as Gilbert’s own feelings didn’t. Yet they felt right. He understood completely, and was above all radiant to know that Oz felt somehow the same way as himself. When Oz looked down, the man took in some air and kindly flattened his opened palm over the boy’s head. “Best things never do.”

            Oz looked up at Gilbert and his eyes were shinning with some new found remembrance and warmth. The raven haired man suddenly realized how sudden and bold his gesture had been and meant to retreat immediately. He couldn’t, though, for Oz pressed the man’s hand against his head with both of his to keep it there. He looked down in renewed embarrassment. “K-Keep it there. Please.” He added.

            Gilbert didn’t know how to react, so he stood still, only talking after a moment. “I-Is everything... okay?”

            “Yeah.” Oz assured. “It’s just… It’s familiar. Your hand.” He said, taking Gilbert’s hand with his own and caressing it with his fingers, making the man as surprised as self-conscious. But Oz was suddenly much more focused. That hand was so big and rough, contrasting with his soft one, no scars on them even though he suspected there would have been a lot would it not be for the man’s Baskerville statute. “You are. Familiar, I mean. Like when I saw you back in the grave, I found myself crying and I didn’t know why. You were just so _familiar…_ Even after Vincent explained us everything, I never got to completely understand it until I saw you. Then, even though I’d never _knew_ you, I _did_ know you. You get what I’m saying?”

            “Yes.” Gilbert affirmed. “It was exactly the same for me.”

            “Of course it was…” Oz realized. “I mean… You didn’t know how I would look like, right? You waited for our souls to be reincarnated, but you had no assurance that we would still be the same as before. Actually, you probably had the certainty that we would not be the same as before.” The boy hesitated, as if stricken by a particularly painful thought. “I am different from before, right? Is it okay? For me to be different?”

            Gilbert drew a small smile. It was funny, in the saddest way, that their roles had been reversed like that. He remembered having those same uncertainties, those same worries, of Oz rejecting him for having changed after his ten years in the Abyss. He had understood back then why none of that mattered, Oz had taught him that. Now it was his time to explain the same thing he had once, after Oz found out about his true nature as a chain. “It’s okay for you to be different. You don’t need to reincarnate to get different. We all change, I did and you did. We both _will_. There’s no guarantee that we will be in the future exactly as we are now. But I can guarantee you one thing.” His hand reached for Oz’s cheek and caressed it with all kindness possible, heat running through his fingers as it always did at each touch. That didn’t change, even after so long. “That it doesn’t matter what happens or what changes you, I will be by your side, watching over your soul, which is the most important for me. And you can count on me, even if I change. Because what you mean to me will never change. I promise you that, Oz…”

            And only after a second, after a really, really long moment, as he stared into those big brown eyes that shone with the intensity and love he remembered and craved for for so long, impelled by a bigger force to step forward and hold the boy against himself, he realized he was being bold again. ‘Oz’, he called the boy. In his head, that was Oz and only Oz, and, as in his mind it was Oz, it was easy to forget that that was not his name now. For he had been born in a different place, raised by different people, and those had gave him a name of his own. Gilbert was too close, too intimate, but even though it seemed only refreshing and sweet to him, he could by no means force that sudden closeness on Oz, not when they had just met again, not when the boy didn’t remember all the details about their past relationship. He couldn’t afford to be so selfish, so he backed away in shame. “I-I’m sorry… I…”

            For his surprise, Oz only smiled, shyly, and took a step forward to close the distance once again. “It’s fine.” He assured.

            “No. It’s not. I am the one at fault. I will be more careful, I promise.”

            “It’s alright.” Oz repeated, this time grabbing Gilbert’s shirt and tightening his fingers around the white cloth, preventing the man of retreating. He looked up, seeming cheerful, somehow. “I like the sound of ‘Oz’. It’s also familiar, actually. Maybe you could call me Oz from now on.”

            “I…” Gilbert was reluctant about it because of numerous reasons. After fourteen years being called by the same name, why would the boy want to change now? “Why would you want that?”

            Oz shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just feel it suits me, perhaps?” With no answer, he proceeded. “Besides… Hearing you calling me anything else but Oz would be… weird.”

            He was getting more nervous. “How could it be weird? How when that’s how everyone calls you?”

            Oz took some slow steps to the side, thoughtful. “Well, it’s not the same.” Out of words to explain what he meant, Oz looked up at the wall, or else, at the framed picture nailed on it. Gilbert followed the boy’s gaze to find the image he had so many times admired, and also cried over. That one and only photograph taken after the one and only tea party they had shared. “This picture.” Oz said. “That one is you, I see. And that blonde one is me, isn’t it?”

            “Y-Yeah…”

            “Ah, knew it! It’s not that different from my actual self.” Seeing Gilbert clueless about the reason of those questions made him sigh with shy amusement. “All the people in this picture. I know they were all important to me, somehow, even though I can’t really remember them. I want to. I want you to tell me about my past life, Gilbert. I want to remember each one of them. You calling me Oz is probably the first step to do so.”

            “You…” Gilbert was not sure. Oz remembering? That was all he had ever wanted. And yet he was scared. Scared because remembering would mean also the sadness, sorrow and pain. He didn’t know if he could see Oz go through all that. “You don’t have to. I don’t want you to think that you… _have_ to. It will be okay, even if you choose to stay like this…”

Oz smiled kindly. “Do you know what all of those dreams I used to have had in common?” He turned around to face the dark haired man, hands joined behind his back. “You, Gilbert. For some reason, there was this person in all of them, and I know now for sure that it was you. I know… from those faint memories that you were there, and there was always this feeling. It is still here. When I look at you, I feel it. And it is… so great...” He got closer and took Gilbert’s hand once again in his own. “But I don’t know for sure where it comes from, how it was born.” He looked up to meet golden pupils. “I want to know. It’s something I feel I need to know, because it was a part of me. Still is, I believe. And I know you care for me and want to protect me, and that remembering will bring some pain because...” He looked back at the frame and smiled sadly. “…well… none of them is still here… But still, I _want_ to know.” Then there was a bright smile on his face. “So I would like you to call me ‘Oz’, from now on.”

            And there was Oz again, Gilbert saw. The brave, kind and dedicated Oz that he knew and loved. He couldn’t avoid intertwining his own fingers with Oz’s, a task so easy it was as if they had been made to fit. “If that is your wish, I shall and will help you. Oz.” He added, closing his eyes in a smile, too. “It will be alright. As long as we’re together, it’ll be alright.”

            Gilbert was caught by surprise when he felt Oz’s arms violently wrap around his waist, the boy’s face burying in his stomach. His cheeks were now burning red. “O-Oz…?” He stuttered. “Is everything alright?”

            “Thank you, Gil. I am… so glad…” As that voice wavered, and not knowing if for embarrassment or emotion, Gilbert had to look down. “I’m so glad you waited for me.”

            Gilbert felt tears building behind his own eyes but held them back. Those were of happiness, he was sure. He patted Oz’s head once again, for that one gesture, that simple touch, meant so much for him. And being holding on to Oz again like this, even after so much time, after so many years of missing and tears and expectations, was the only thing he needed. The only thing he had ever wanted. His smile, as gentle in nature as Gilbert himself was, as his feeling for Oz had ever been, was short and still fully honest. “I am glad I did, Oz.”

            “Heeeeey, where are you guys?!” Alice shouted as she aggressively opened the door.

            Oz jumped back so quickly he almost stumbled, and so did Gilbert, both of them shocked and staring at the door. Gilbert’s heart was racing as Alice raised an eyebrow, mistursting. “What’s up in here?”

            The boy and the man crossed gazes for a second but quickly looked away, cheeks bright red. “N-Nothing!” Both decided.

            Alice waited a second for development, and talked when none came. “So? Can we go now? Wasn’t Seaweed Head going to show us around the town?”

            “I-I am!” Gilbert stated, not even noticing the nickname used, which he hadn’t heard for decades.

            “Let’s go already!” Oz said, walking towards Alice and grabbing her hand. “We will be waiting by the door, Gil!”

            Gilbert saw them leave and stood there some brief seconds, just pondering about everything. One hundred years he had waited. And there they were. Both of them, Oz and Alice, the same as before, even though changed. He didn’t know how much longer he had to enjoy their company, but it didn’t make a difference, in the end, as long as they were there right now, under his reach. Some miracles are not meant to last long, but that doesn’t make them any less of a blessing. A soft smile came to his lips as he walked to follow them.

            Some miracles, he concluded, are worth waiting for.


End file.
